Caribbean Chimera

In the highland of Puerto Rico is where this story begins
amongst the Banyan trees and the buzzing insects
There on the Eastern edge near the coastal mountains
is a place where mad scientists experiment and dissect.

Born on the island of Saint Lucia in 1930s, a former British colony in the West Indies, poet and playwright Derek Walcott was trained as a painter but turned to writing as a young man. His father, a Bohemian watercolourist, died when Derek and

“It is rumored that we were soft. Had cumulus cloudy laps a man could lay his troubles upon. Honey-dipped tongues that spoke sweetness in the mornings. Embraces that chased the Devils away. We were soft. Rumor has it that we could tame the beast of a man with a whisper. Grew and glued our families together. We were Angels that walked on land…a silent strength. We uplifted each other. We were soft. I don’t know exactly what happened. We are hard now. Rigid, bruised, and broken. We have lost our magic. Now we curse the morning. Where is our elegance and mystery? Our dignity and grace? For our daughters’ sake, we were soft. Weren’t we?”